


Your Tragic Fate is Looking So Clear

by Jadzibelle



Series: Ducklings!verse [1]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Characters with Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Dissociation, Everyone Here is Traumatized Guys Sorry, Fix-It, Grief, Guilt, Identity Issues, Major Character Death (Temporary/Unreal), Major Character Undeath, Mild Self-Destructive Behavior, Multi, Nightmares, Paige (Temporary/Unreal), Reality Bending/Unreality, References canon events for the latter part of S5B, Secondary Character: Carrie Benson, Secondary Character: Dave Teagues, Secondary Character: Gloria Verrano, Secondary Character: Hailie Colton, Secondary Character: Lizzie Hendrickson, Secondary Character: Vickie Dutton, Secondary Character: Vince Teagues, Secondary character deaths, Self-Blame, Uncertain reality, Undoes most of those events, dreamspace, sort of, unreality, warnings for:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: Nothing is ever quite as it seems in Haven.  Not even ending the Troubles.A well-chosen battlefield is a weapon in itself, and Croatoan knows it.  The mind is a tricky thing- convince someone they've lost everything, and even the strongest will can fail.  Nathan and Audrey are stuck in their worst nightmares, and time is against them.Fortunately, they have a little outside help.





	1. Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> For the First Anniversary Fix-It Fic Collection.
> 
> Sorry it's a WIP, I'm trying not to post many more of those, but I'll try to get this one wrapped in a timely manner.

“...Wow.” Hailie leaned forward in her seat, craning her neck to look up past the roof of the car. Duke glanced sideways at her, momentarily unnerved- her expression was open, awed and a little excited, visibly impressed by the giant curving wall of fog that roiled and shifted and held perfect position. It was a very... _human_ reaction, a natural response to something so decidedly _unnatural_.

He wondered when he’d stopped being impressed by the impossible, when he’d lost his sense of wonder.

Wondered who he’d buried it beside.

His hands clenched, and he opened the door with more force than necessary.

“Come on,” he said, the words gruff enough to do Nathan proud, and Hailie cut a vaguely accusatory glance at him.

“ _I’ve_ never seen it before,” she said, and Duke didn’t bother to try and look chagrined.

“If you’re very lucky, you won’t end up regretting that you saw it at all,” he said, and Hailie scowled at him.

“ _You’re_ the one who insisted I come here,” she pointed out, and that earned a flinch.

“I know. So let’s go find out _why_.”

“Seriously, this thing circles the whole town?” she asked, and Duke nodded. “... _Weird_.”

“Look, I know- what I said before,” Duke said, and Hailie gave him a wary look, “but once we’re- once we cross through the fog, _stay close to me_. Things... happen fast, sometimes, so- stay close, _listen_ , and if I tell you to _run_ , you do it, okay?”

“Not going to be a problem,” Hailie promised, a note in her voice that he couldn’t decipher- wariness, or sarcasm, or distrust, and that was probably for the best.

It was safer, for her to be afraid of him.

Except, of course, for the part where he knew Haven a hell of a lot better than she did, and he’d been dodging Troubles for entirely too long, and there was every possibility that he’d wind up the only thing between her and disaster a hell of a lot faster than either of them would prefer.

Nathan had better have a very, very good reason for asking him to bring somebody else into this mess.

Duke approached the wall warily, not sure if the faint buzzing at the back of his thoughts as he got closer was _real_ , or just nerves- he wondered if Audrey ever felt it, the prickling sense of _awareness_ , wondered if it was part of what made her so good at figuring out Troubles.

Wondered, if that was true, if she could still feel it, with _his_ Troubles, and that was not a thought he wanted to pursue.

Hailie edged up beside him, reaching out and pushing her hand into the fog; Duke bit back an immediate chastisement, because the fog probably wouldn’t hurt her, and he doubted she’d listen to yet another dire warning until something _did_. He hated this, hated everything about dragging an impulsive, _careless_ kid into a situation she was utterly and entirely unprepared for. If it weren’t for the letter-

-but that was, really, what it came down to. The letter. Nathan had asked him to bring him a Colton, and Nathan wouldn’t have asked, wouldn’t have gone through the incredible amount of trouble to get him a letter from _nineteen eighty three_ if it wasn’t critical. He had to trust that Nathan knew what he was doing.

He reached out, and closed his hand around Hailie’s wrist.

“Don’t lose contact,” he instructed, “Won’t get through, if you do.” Not that he was entirely sure this would work even if he _was_ holding on to her.

“Right,” Hailie said, rolling her eyes. “So are we going?”

The impulse to say _no_ , to pull her away from the barrier and put her back in the car, to hand her the keys and tell her to _drive_ until she was as far away from Haven as she could get, rose up hard- it was only the weight of the letter in his pocket that pushed it back down.

“Yes,” he said, and stepped forward.

***

_Audrey knows she shouldn’t, knows that_ retreat _is a luxury she cannot afford to indulge in, but she has no room left for anyone else’s grief. Not even Nathan’s._

_Particularly Nathan’s._

_She thought it couldn’t get worse. That it couldn’t get worse than losing Charlotte- than the terrible cruelty of getting her_ back _, only to lose her again- but this..._

_This is worse._

_This is worse, and she feels like she’s the one who stopped breathing. She doesn’t know how to push past the pressure in her chest, doesn’t know how to put herself back together from this one._

_She’d long since stopped expecting the world to be fair, but this- this is a whole new level of injustice._

_So she walks away, closes herself in her office and tries to remember how to breathe._

***

Duke had been to war zones more cheerful than the neighborhoods they passed; he didn’t entirely understand all the coded warnings painted on the streets, but he guided Hailie around them anyway, feeling the hair on his neck standing up the entire time. It took twice as long to get to Nathan’s house than it should have- not helped by the fifteen minutes they spent crouched behind a too-full dumpster, waiting for _something_ that he couldn’t actually see to pass by. Whatever it was, Hailie had turned a particularly ashen shade of pale and phased herself directly through the dumpster trying to get away from it, and Duke had barely gotten around it to signal her to _stop moving and stay down_ in time to keep her from going right on through the nearest wall.

She clung to his arm after that, and Duke was reminded once more that she was _really_ too young for this.

Not that he was actually sure that there was an appropriate age to face a semi-magical disaster zone.

It was an overwhelming relief to see the familiar profile of Nathan’s little yellow house, looking more or less the same as it had when he was a kid, rising up at the top of the street. It was whole, and intact, and even the oppressive gloom of the heavy grey air couldn’t entirely dampen the cheerfulness of the sight. Hailie glanced uncertainly at him as he breathed out a sigh and felt his shoulders relax, and he couldn’t really blame her, but while it wasn’t _his_ home, it was still... close.

If his stomach gave an uncertain little twist at the sight of his truck parked next to the Bronco in the drive, well, he didn’t have to admit it.

Duke led Hailie up onto the porch, and reminded himself that _Nathan had asked him to come back_. That he had the proof, handwritten and delivered over decades and miles, that Nathan had _wanted_ him to come back.

_I need your help. I can’t do it without you. I’m counting on you_.

Nathan had asked him to come back. He had every right to knock on the door.

He knocked, a quick pattern that he’d used for years, that Nathan had used for years, that had always, in the past, gotten the door opened no matter how pissed one of them was at the other, and waited, trying to ignore his heart pounding in his ears. Trying to ignore his stomach twisting and his ribs pressing down like a vice around his lungs, because _Nathan had asked him to come back_. He wasn’t showing up, uninvited and unwelcome, after running away like a coward.

He was showing up, invited, after running away like a coward, and he wasn’t entirely sure that was better.

There was a shuffle on the other side of the door, and the sound of a lock being disengaged, and the door swung open a few inches.

Gloria was on the other side, looking at Duke with the same confusion and disbelief that he knew he was showing.

“...Gloria?” he asked, too thrown for a moment for anything else.

“ _Duke?_ ” Gloria replied, and he felt immediately guilty at the _relief_ that broke over her wizened face, the tears that glistened in the corners of her eyes as she pulled the door the rest of the way open and reached out. He stood, stiff and uncomfortable, as she wrapped her arms around him, and he could feel her shaking. “Thank God, kitten, we need you.”

“...Nathan-” he started, and Gloria pulled back, expression shifting, and the fear hit, heavy and awful, because _Gloria_ was in Nathan’s house, answering Nathan’s door, and _where the hell was Nate?_

“Get in here,” Gloria said, motioning him in, and pausing to frown at Hailie. “Who’s this?”

“Hailie. Colton. Nathan asked me to bring her. Where is he? Where’s Audrey? Why are you _here_?” The questions fell out without any grace, and he knew he was giving away too much in the way his voice shook, in the raw edge it’d taken on, but he couldn’t be too late, he _needed_ to not be too late. He hadn’t come back into this nightmare to find out that he’d already failed.

“...We don’t know where Audrey is,” Gloria said, and Duke could hear the exhaustion, the _fear_ , in her voice. “Nathan’s here, but-”

“But _what_ ,” Duke demanded, trying to push down the dizzy spiral of _panic_ that was threatening to overwhelm him, because _we don’t know_ was not an acceptable answer.

“There’s a problem,” Gloria said, as though Duke hadn’t already figured that much out on his own.

“Hey, um, maybe- maybe you should, should sit?” Hailie said, and there was a thin note of alarm in her voice. “And. Count to fifty, or something?”

Duke spared her a glance, and _alarm_ didn’t quite cover the stiffness in her pose, the way she was canted back, like she wasn’t sure she shouldn’t be running, and it was warning enough, a reminder that he _could not afford_ to be anything other than in control. He took a step away from her, away from Gloria, putting distance between himself and both women, both fragile human beings who didn’t deserve to be put at risk, and concentrated on the flow of air into his lungs, concentrated on relaxing the muscles in his shoulders and neck and back until he was reasonably sure he could at least feign the appearance of calm

“What kind of problem?” he asked, and his voice was level and flat.

“We think-” Gloria started, and her voice was cautious, uneasy as she looked between him and Hailie, “that it’s the Sandman. Except the Sandman’s _dead_ , so- we don’t know.”

“...The Sandman,” Duke repeated, wondering if he was supposed to know what that meant. And he probably _would_ , if he’d _been there_ , if he’d stuck around instead of running, he’d know what Gloria was talking about and he’d have known when Audrey _went missing_ and he’d have known that _something had happened to Nate_ and he wouldn’t be standing there, trying to keep the bottom from falling out of his world.

Again.

“A lot’s happened, since you’ve been gone,” Gloria said, and he wished, he _wished_ there was anger in her voice, accusation or blame or anything other than a weary sort of resignation, but there wasn’t. “It’s damn good you’re back, wasn’t sure how much longer Vince and McHugh could keep everyone settled.”

“... _Vince_ and _McHugh_?” Duke asked, and Gloria nodded.

“Dave disappeared, after- well. But you don’t- just. I’ll start at the beginning, but do you want to see Nathan, first?” Gloria motioned vaguely behind her, and she looked- _tired_ , frazzled and unsure, and it was unsettling to see her like that. To see her look _frail_ , when she’d always been sarcasm and steel. It was too much a reminder, too much like the awful moments after-

-it was too much a reminder. And he couldn’t afford to dwell.

“Please,” he said, because he needed to know, would need to hear all of it, needed to know what he’d stumbled back into, but he needed to see Nathan more.

Gloria led him into the small room off the sitting room that had been the Chief’s office, back in the day, that Duke didn’t think Nathan had ever done much with, and Duke hesitated before the doorway, not sure what to expect. She beckoned him forward, sympathy in her too-knowing expression, and Duke forced himself to move, to step forward.

Nathan was arranged on a folding cot; his eyes were closed, but Duke could see rapid movement behind the lids, and he was _breathing_ , occasional slight twitches making the cot creak. Beyond him, on a second cot, Dwight was likewise arranged, and just as clearly _asleep_ , and Duke didn’t understand, but at least they were definitely _alive_.

It wasn’t much, but it was _something_.

Duke glanced at Gloria, lifting an eyebrow in question, and she nodded, gestured for him to _go ahead_ , and Duke edged closer, wary and still unsure. He could feel the same uneasy _buzz_ at the back of his mind that he’d felt at the barrier, that he’d felt watching empty space prowl past the dumpster, and it made him itch, made him want to retreat. But Duke had done too much running away lately, and there’d been an ache in his chest since he’d left, so he ignored the buzz and crouched down next to Nathan’s cot.

“Nate?” he asked, voice soft, and he reached out, dropped a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, gripping tight. “Nate, man, c’mon, this is not an acceptable time for a nap, you were supposed to be here to tell me what the hell to do. To tell me why the hell you had me drag some poor Troubled kid into this mess with me.”

Nathan didn’t move, didn’t respond. Duke shook his shoulder, hard enough to jar him, hard enough that he’d’ve _noticed_ , despite his Trouble, and Nathan remained asleep, breathing just a little too quickly, eyes darting back and forth behind closed lids.

“They won’t wake up,” Gloria said quietly. “Tried stimulants, tried- everything we could think of. They aren’t injured, and they aren’t sick. They’re just-”

“-Asleep,” Duke finished, fingers digging just a little harder into Nathan’s shoulder. It _hurt_ ; he’d been trying not to think about how much he just- wanted to _see_ them, wanted the chance to hear their voices. How much he’d needed that, even if he’d expected the reunion to be a rough one. He’d been prepared for shouting, for recriminations, for a few thrown punches, even.

He hadn’t been prepared for this.

Duke dragged his hand down, curling it around Nathan’s wrist and squeezing sharply, before he stood up.

“You need to tell me... everything,” he said, and Gloria nodded.

“Yeah. I do.”

***

_Somehow, he knows- has known- this is inevitable. Somehow, he knows- has known- what the outcome must be, felt it curdle in his thoughts before anyone said a word._

_There isn’t any other way. There is only one way this can go. He sees how this ends as clearly as if he’s seen it already._

_Nathan moves, because he has to, because Duke needs him to, because he is_ pleading _and Duke does not beg, but he is begging, and there isn’t any other way. Nathan moves, because he has to, because this is inevitable, because this is his responsibility. He is the one who called Duke back, he is the one who brought him here, who has failed again and again to solve anything. He is the one who brought this down on all of them when he destroyed the Barn._

_Nathan’s voice is rough and broken as he speaks, as he offers words that are still nowhere near enough, words that can never make up for the act he is committing. He speaks because he has to, because it is nowhere near enough, but he cannot be silent, he cannot bear to not speak. To fail to offer whatever paltry comfort he can._

_Nathan knows, the moment it is over. It isn’t physical, the feeling that sweeps through him. It’s beyond that, a cold that settles where his bones should be, an emptiness that was once his heart and lungs and ribs and spine. He pulls away, stumbles back, and the world wavers, light stretching and breaking as he blinks._

_As it sets in, that there is no way back, that there is no repairing this. That he has lost something irreplaceable._

_He doesn’t say a word, when Audrey retreats. How can he? He’s done this, he’s done this because they have failed at every step and this is the cost of that failing._

_He wants to run. He wants to surrender. He wants to lash out, to break anything and everything that remains within reach._

_The thought leaves him sick, shaken. He’s had enough violence, he’s destroyed enough. And he doesn’t get to run away. He doesn’t get to surrender._

_He doesn’t get to escape the consequences of this._

_He has a debt to pay. He has no choice but to keep going._

***

Tilting his pounding head back against the cool glass of the window behind him, Duke closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find some trace of calm. He was- overwhelmed, angry and guilty and _scared_ , and every rational, well-conditioned instinct for self-preservation was screaming at him to stand up, walk out the door, and head straight back out of Haven. To get away from mob rule and kangaroo courts and _rations_ , lethal darkness and killer tarot cards and _zombies_ , from an untraceable killer who could _erase memories_ and was possessing _Dave of all people_. To get away from the creeping, awful certainty that if he stayed, he’d only end up breaking it all worse, again.

But he hadn’t been able to escape any of it _outside_ the barrier, either, and _something_ apparently thought he had a role to play, and even if none of that had been true, even if he hadn’t been told that his choices might tip the balance one way or the other, Nathan needed help and Audrey was missing.

And it didn’t sound like there was anyone else to fix it.

Dwight was down, too. Vince had never been more than unreliable at best, and Dave was apparently _the enemy_.

Charlotte was dead.

The pounding in his head got worse, and he pushed the thought away, because it wasn’t helpful. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that, on Audrey losing that connection she’d wanted so badly. He could choke on his guilt _later_ , when he’d figured out where the hell Audrey _was_ and gotten her back safely.

Until then, he needed to concentrate.

Gloria set a glass down on the table next to him, and Duke opened his eyes, and accepted the water with a nod of thanks. He should have thought, should have brought supplies, at _least_ enough for himself and Hailie, but it hadn’t occurred to him just how desperate the conditions behind the barrier might be.

He hadn’t let himself think about it. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, now that he knew. Twenty thousand people and they all still needed to eat, and-

-later. That was a problem for later. No one was starving yet. Figuring out some kind of re-supply could wait. His priority was, had to be, Nathan and Audrey.

“So... the Sandman, he could do- this,” Duke said, gesturing at the doorway to the office, and Gloria nodded.

“Vince’s people, they were using it to... handle difficult people,” Gloria said, and Duke clenched his jaw, fingers digging into the edge of the table.

“I thought they were Dwight’s people, now,” he said, “and what exactly do you mean, _handle_?”

“Vince still has some influence, and it’s not like we had a functional jail,” Gloria replied, shrugging. “People who were stealing supplies, people who were dangerous to the group, they were... putting them under. Couldn’t just abandon them, they’d’ve died, but...”

“But the group came first,” Duke said, stomach twisting. He’d seen that before, too many times, he knew where that kind of thinking led- but it wasn’t exactly like he had any right to complain. He hadn’t stuck around to have the argument. “And this, this Sandman, he went rogue, tried to, what, dream-kidnap Audrey?”

“Apparently, she was kind to him, and he took it as an invitation,” Gloria said, lips pursed. “When she broke out of it, something happened, don’t ask me what, but he was put in isolation and nobody gave him another thought. Until after Charlotte- well. Dave slipped away, and next we knew, half the leadership didn’t show up for the morning meeting, and Sandman was dead in his room. It’s his Trouble, I’m sure of it, it’s exactly what we saw with him... But he couldn’t have done it.”

“But Croatoan- he’s your No Marks killer, right, that’s, that’s what you said, this is for sure?” Duke asked, because to be fair, it’d been a lot of information at once, and some of it was still just- unbelievable. “And he’s- he’s killing people by pulling the Troubles out of them?”

“Far as we can tell,” Gloria confirmed.

“So it’s possible he did this?” Duke asked, and Gloria shrugged.

“Honestly, kid, I’m starting to lose track,” she said, and he was fairly sure she _meant_ it. She looked exhausted, and Duke wondered, suddenly, where baby Aaron was, who was watching him while Gloria was watching over Nathan and Dwight, and the pressure of his guilt increased exponentially.

Second priority, as soon as he’d gotten Nathan and Audrey back, he was getting Gloria and the kid _out_. Possibly during the re-supply. He’d figure out the details later.

One thing at a time. He had to stick to one thing at a time.

“...So. How did- how did Audrey get _out_ , when the Sandman had her?” Duke asked, and Gloria gave him another weary shrug.

“I don’t know. I know Charlotte went in after her, but I don’t know how they got out.”

“...Well that’s a place to start,” Duke said, an idea sparking to life.

“How?” Gloria asked, frowning. “Sandman had to bring Charlotte in, and it’s- it’s one of the new Troubles, one that works on Audrey, worked on Charlotte. Thought you were immune to those.”

“...Yeah,” Duke said, “but I know a dream Trouble I’m _not_ immune to. And- I think I have a _plan_.” It was reckless, and impulsive, and only half-thought-out, but that was about how most of their plans worked.

“Well that’s more than any of the rest of us have,” Gloria said, lips ticking up into the start of a smile. “What do you need?”

“Can you call Vince? I need him to find Carrie Benson. And- do you have any sedatives?”

He could do this.

Probably.

***

_It isn’t fair._

_It isn’t fair, and Audrey is tired, so tired, indescribably tired, of getting back what she’s lost only to lose it again. And again. And again._

_It isn’t fair that they can stand here, on the verge of winning, and be told that the cost of victory is to lose._

_Again._

_Her only consolation is that at least this time, she can’t possibly lose anything more. This time, it_ has _to be enough. After all, isn’t that the point of sacrificing everything she is?_

_She walks back into the nightmare box, and it takes her away, and her father and the Troubles go too._

_It isn’t fair, but Audrey is so, so tired, and what’s one final loss, really?_

_She can see that Nathan is barely holding on. She knows that he is lying to her, with his brave face and noble words. She does her best to match him beat for beat and broken smile for broken smile, lets him believe he has her fooled._

_She can’t imagine how much his bravery is costing him. She can’t let him think that it isn’t enough. He deserves that much, at least, if she has to leave him with nothing else._

_And she is leaving him with nothing else._

_It isn’t fair, but she holds his hands and tries to smile, and watches him walk away carrying the last vestiges of everything she’d hoped for with him._

_She wonders, briefly, what the point is- how they can insist that she provide_ love _to power the damned Barn when everything she loves has been taken from her, when she has lost all of it over and over again, when she feels more empty than she ever has._

_Then she closes the door and curls her hand around the whistle in her pocket and pictures Nathan with his white rose, the simple giddy joy he’d taken in indulging in_ soft _and_ smooth _and_ cool _, and hopes it is enough._

***

“This is a terrible plan,” McHugh said, scowling at Duke from the far corner of the kitchen. “You have no idea if this will work. Even if it does, it’s _dangerous_ , and I don’t much like it, but you’re the only one who can cross the barrier- this is a stupid chance to be taking.”

“I’m not asking for opinions, here,” Duke said, scowling right back. “Why are you even here?”

“Who do you think has been trying to keep this town running, with Dwight down?” McHugh demanded. “Vince called me. And this is a poor use of resources, you’re more useful _doing_ something about our resources.”

“I am _not_ a resource,” Duke said, voice cold, stomach twisting. He wasn’t there to be _used_ , he hadn’t come back to be subjected to the same high-handed, self-righteous _crap_ from the Guard, or the pseudo-Guard, or whatever the hell part of Dwight’s _posse_ McHugh represented. “And my priority is getting Nathan and Audrey- and Dwight- _back_. Everything else can _wait_. And I don’t particularly care if you _like it_.”

“Easy, Duke,” Gloria said, reaching out and squeezing his hand, and the contact wasn’t as steadying as he would have liked. “McHugh’s not wrong, this is dangerous, and if you get hurt, we’re all in pretty serious trouble. But no one’s saying we shouldn’t be trying to get them back right now- it’s a decent plan, just, does it have to be _you_?”

“Yes,” Duke said shortly. “It does.” And it wasn’t just that Duke wasn’t sure he could stand the thought of sitting back and watching someone else _try_ while he was relegated to running the barricade, as it were. He was, admittedly, working mostly on instinct and impulse, but from what little any of them had been able to confirm about Sandman’s dream-world, it- and everyone in it- had been under his control. Sending in a rescuer who immediately forgot why they were there wouldn’t help anyone.

Duke was immune to this Trouble. 

If this worked the way he was hoping it would- if it worked _at all_ , and that was still, admittedly, something of a leap- he’d still know who he was and what he was after, and Croatoan wouldn’t be able to take that away.

And he doubted they’d be able to find anyone else in town outside the Benson family themselves who had half as much experience with trance states, lucid dreams, and reality-bending experiences as he had. There were some benefits to being curious and well traveled, after all.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain... _any_ of what he was hoping to do, what he thought might be necessary to get in and move around, to anyone else. And even if he could, he wasn’t sure anyone else would be able to do it. And even if they _could_ , it wouldn’t matter if they _forgot what they were doing_.

It had to be him. He was sure of it. And he wasn’t going to waste time waiting for a handful of failed attempts to prove it. Not when that could very well tip off Croatoan, if that really was who was controlling the dream-state. And who knew what Croatoan might do then?

Apparently, Sandman had _killed people_ in his dream-state. Duke wasn’t taking that chance, not with his people.

“...Okay, kitten. If you’re sure,” Gloria said, clearly seeing that he had no intention of arguing the point. “But be careful.”

“Of course,” he said, flashing a sharp, sardonic smile. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking risks- he _remembered_ how Carrie’s Trouble worked, he still had a scar from the last time. But it was contagious, and dream-oriented, and he was pretty sure, with enough focus and a lot of luck, he could use it to get past the door into the communal dream-space without an invitation.

Probably. Maybe.

He wondered if Audrey spent this much time worrying about if her insane, spur of the moment plans would actually hold up. He didn’t think she did.

“Just- if you’re gonna be here, be useful. Keep Hailie safe, Nathan said he needed a Colton, and she’s the only one left,” Duke said, giving McHugh a look. “I don’t know why, but I don’t want to explain that I got her here and then lost her while I was trying to wake him up.”

“...Fine,” McHugh said, and Duke was, honestly, a little surprised by the acquiescence- he’d expected more of a fight, or at the very least, to be told that McHugh didn’t take orders from him. He’d expected Vince to argue about bringing Carrie in, as well, and he hadn’t- and Gloria had just asked him _what he needed_ , like it was a given they’d be going with whatever plan he’d pulled out of thin air.

The degree of _cooperation_ he was receiving was starting to make him very, very uncomfortable. It felt entirely too much like people actually expected he had answers.

Duke didn’t like it now any more than he’d liked it when Dwight was talking about _walking point_.

But that, too, was a problem for _later_.

He followed McHugh out of the kitchen, keeping a careful distance between them; Vince had disappeared, but Carrie was hovering in the doorway to the office, looking unsure, while Vickie spoke quietly with Hailie on the couch, bouncing baby Aaron on her knee. He pushed down the uneasy knowledge of just how many of the people nearby were Troubled, how vulnerable they all were- it wasn’t a helpful thought, and he just. Needed to keep himself centered.

He had a job to do, he needed to concentrate on that.

He crossed the living room, making an effort to return the shy, cautious smile Vickie offered as he passed, and Gloria followed, sticking close.

“Carrie,” Duke said, with a nod of greeting. “Thanks for- this.” Carrie gave her own smile as they stepped into the office. Gloria pushed the door closed behind them.

“I’m not- entirely sure how I can help,” Carrie said, “but I want to try, if I can. You all helped me.”

Which was... perhaps more generous than Duke would have been; he’d helped with the poking around, early on, but he hadn’t been particularly useful in actually helping Carrie manage her Trouble. That’d been Audrey and Nathan.

He’d had his own problems to deal with. His chest ached at the reminder.

He was so damn tired of losing people to this town.

So he wasn’t going to lose Nathan and Audrey. He wasn’t. He was going to make this work, so that he could get them back, so that he could figure out exactly how to keep them alive and safe until they could _end_ all of this. Because apparently the fate of the town hung in the balance of how well he performed that task.

He was really, really glad Gloria had managed to come up with some sedatives, because he _really_ wasn’t going to be able to sleep on his own. Probably ever again.

“I need to borrow your Trouble,” Duke said, and Carrie blinked at him, looking uneasy. “And I’m hoping- Audrey said you can, that your family uses lucid dreaming, to handle it, to keep it- controlled. I’m hoping you can help... guide me, at first.”

Carrie frowned, but the _unease_ vanished, replaced by a thoughtful sort of focus.

“That’s- I mean, _maybe_ , but... My Trouble hasn’t spread since that first time, not since Audrey helped me work through what triggered it. I don’t know if I _can_ make it spread intentionally.”

“It’s very, very important that you do,” Duke said. “See, we think they’re-” he gestured at Nathan and Dwight, quiet and restless on their cots, “-stuck in a, a controlled dream. I need to get in there and try to... pull them out.”

“...Okay,” Carrie said, and Duke appreciated that she hadn’t immediately shut him down, even if they both knew that really _wasn’t_ what her Trouble did. “You think, if, if my Trouble affects you, that you’ll be able to make the jump into... someone else’s dream?”

“I think it’s possible, if your Trouble is affecting him, too,” Duke said, indicating Nathan with a tilt of his head. “I’m hoping you can act as... a bridge.”

“Have you ever... done anything like this before?” Carrie asked, raising a hand and worrying the nail of her thumb between her teeth. “Lucid dreaming, or- anything? Because this, it’s _dangerous_ , you remember. The last time, all three of you got hurt, I just, if you can’t control it...”

“It’s been a while, but I’ve got some experience. I can control it,” Duke said, hoping it was true. “What triggered your Trouble, last time?”

“...I was scared,” Carrie said. “I’d been attacked, I- I was afraid.”

Fear. Great. Just what Duke wanted to hear.

“Can you try to, to call that feeling up?” he asked, making his voice as gentle as he could. “Because I really, really don’t want to have to scare you.”

“I can try,” Carrie said, with an uncertain smile, like she wasn’t quite sure if he was joking.

He didn’t smile back, schooled his expression into something regretful and serious and just shy of threatening, and her smile faltered. He was almost certain he could _hear_ her pulse kick up, and he resolutely ignored how much he wanted to back away, wanted _out_ of the narrow little room full of Troubles.

He didn’t want to be someone other people had to be afraid of. _Hadn’t been_ , until Mara had-

-he wasn’t thinking about Mara.

“I- what do you want me to do? Exactly?” Carrie asked, chin trembling, and Gloria motioned at the desk chair wedged between Nathan’s cot and the bench Duke had hauled in from the backyard.

“Go ahead and sit down. Duke’s going to lie down, here, and I’m gonna give him just enough of this,” Gloria waved a syringe full of something clear, “to help him go under, and hopefully keep him there a while. We need you to just- keep a hand on them, long as you can, and do whatever it is you do to keep your dreams under control.”

“I want you to visualize a corridor,” Duke said, as Carrie sat down. “A door at each end. No longer than this room, just- a simple hallway.”

“Okay,” Carrie said, settling in and shifting a bit. She reached out, and let the fingers of one hand rest on Nathan’s forehead. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Duke said, taking his position on the bench, ignoring the way the wood slats dug into his back and the fact that his feet hung so far over the edge he could almost rest them on the floor. It was not, by any stretch, a comfortable position, but it didn’t need to be- he’d slept on worse, and he was counting on Gloria’s sedatives to make the difference. As soon as he was lying down, he felt a touch, light and gentle, on the center of his forehead. His pulse was too loud in his ears, Carrie’s touch too warm and not entirely welcome, but this was _his plan_.

He reached out, offering Gloria his arm, and she gave him a grim nod.

The pinch of the needle was there and gone again, and Gloria let go of his wrist. Duke reached across the narrow distance, and wrapped his fingers around Nathan’s wrist, wedging his hand into place so he wouldn’t lose the contact when he relaxed, and he turned his attention back to Carrie, already feeling the slow rotation of the room that said the sedatives were starting to work.

He let his eyes fall closed, and took a deep breath.

“Describe the hallway.”


	2. Into The Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, lovelies. I hope the day treats all of you kindly.

_He stands before a door. It is painted white, with a brass knob, one with a push-lock in the middle. It is very important that he go through the door; something on the other side is critical, is_ vital _._

_Duke looks at the door, and tries to remember._

_A voice, soft and distant and familiar, tells him about the door, and he listens, trying to place it. The voice is important, too, not quite as important as the door, but..._

_Carrie._

The space around him clarified, went sharper, and Duke settled into the not-quite-comfortable alertness of _knowing_. He was asleep, or close to it. He was dreaming, actively, he had a goal and a purpose, and both were on the other side of the door.

Slowly, he lifted his hand, considering the movement; everything, _everything_ came down to control. If he could keep control, of himself, of the dream, he could accomplish his goal.

He gave himself a moment to adjust, feeling out the space. Feeling out how _he_ existed in the space. There was a crawling, uncomfortable heat beneath his skin- expected, familiar. A Trouble, not his own, not one of those that had _become_ his, and not the uneasy buzz of awareness that said _of him_. It was the burning crawl of _someone else’s_ Trouble, the one that he’d nearly suffocated under, after Audrey had woken hundreds at once, the one that he’d spent weeks picking apart one by one and _learning_.

One more reason it had to be _him_ , and not anyone else; nobody else knew what that felt like. Nobody else had ever needed to work with more than one Trouble at a time.

Nobody else had the tools that he had.

This one, this one simply _was_ , worn but not carried, and he memorized the weight of it, the texture, before he turned his focus back to the door.

Plain, and white, and simple. He turned the knob, and stepped through, and into a hallway, just as plain, just as white, just as simple, no longer than the width of Nathan’s office, with another door at the far end. He considered, and reached behind him, pressing down the lock button before he pulled the door firmly shut. Going backwards wouldn’t help, and if there was any part of the dream-space that could connect to _Carrie_ , he didn’t want anyone else slipping through, either.

Six steps to the next door, and the feeling was _different_ , buzzed like a warning; _of him_ , born of his blood, on the other side, the space he needed to enter.

This door wasn’t so simple; there was a deadbolt, and a second lock on the knob, and he was on the wrong side.

It was almost funny.

He reached into a pocket, and concentrated on the knowledge that this was _his_ dream, _his_ place, that he was in control. He concentrated on the weight and the texture of the power behind him, and drew out a set of picks that looked like the first ones he’d ever had, rough and dirty and just enough to get the job done.

A moment’s work, and the door swung open like it had never been locked. The buzz grew worse, the space beyond shivering and indistinct, and Duke thought he should feel- something. Something more than the flat, vague sense of being right. Satisfaction, maybe- he’d used to enjoy being right.

Or fear; fear would probably have been appropriate.

He’d settle for certainty, and the heavy weight of _urgency_. He took a step, crossed the threshhold, felt _cold_.

The door clicked shut behind him, and he stopped wondering where fear had escaped to- it rushed through him in a flood.

Everything was grey. Worse, really, than the heavy lack of color caused by the fog- this was a grey that went beyond pallor, beyond shade. It was a _muting_ , a presence all its own, and it sat heavy on his shoulders, weighed his feet down. Cold wind scoured his skin, sapping the heat from him, harsh and stinging against his hands. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus-

-no. No, he had to focus, that was not optional. He had to focus, had to keep control, had to keep _perspective_.

This was nothing but a bad dream.

He forced his shoulders square, not sure when they’d folded down, and lifted his chin, glaring at the shifting, desaturated world.

“Fuck this,” he said, and _concentrated_. This was nothing but a bad dream, and he didn’t have to put up with it.

The wind _stopped_ , the cold vanishing- it still wasn’t _warm_ , but it wasn’t freezing, either. Color slowly stretched, spilling out around his feet- the grass remained winter-sere, but it was brown and gold, now, instead of bleak, dirty white, and a patch of some scrubby evergreen flared bright and living. The _pressure_ of the pallor faded, gravity easing to something like normal, something like _home_. He breathed easier, let his shoulders relax, and _pushed_ , sent the color as far along the ground as he could.

It crawled to a stop about fifteen feet in front of him, and he could see a _flickering_ at the edge, a churning, shifting border to mark where his influence ended. It wasn’t as much as he’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing; he let the color contract back, until it lit only as much ground as he could cover in a single stride, conserving his energy.

And, because he _could_ , because he hadn’t entirely banished the creeping fear, he let himself remember the feel of his favorite sweater, heavy and oversized and worn soft with age, wrapped the thought around himself like armor and tucked his hands into the sleeves.

“Right,” he said, mostly because the silence, like the grey and the cold, had a weight of its own. “So, that worked.” Which, really, was more than he should have expected. Of course, now that it had, he still needed to actually _find_ his people. “Suppose it was too much to expect a yellow brick road,” he commented, and the ground beneath his feet shifted, going light and level, the regular grid of bricks picked out in a muted shade of mustard.

“...Or not,” Duke said, feeling the unexpected tug of a smile starting to form, and not bothering to fight it. It didn’t change anything, but it felt... better. He took a deep breath, and centered himself, and focused his thoughts. He needed to find his people; he concentrated on Nathan, on the need to go to where Nathan was. At the edges of his reach, the heavy grey shape of the town shimmered and stretched, and the path at his feet edged out to meet a distant-not-distant road. He thought he recognized the buildings, thought he recognized the street- it was difficult, there was a lot of damage, and the colors were wrong, some of the _shapes_ were wrong- but it _seemed_ like the street that ought to lead to the police station.

Always a safe bet, when looking for Nathan, so he started walking.

The path moved with him, rolling out a pace at a time as he passed the twisted shadows of familiar landmarks. It stung to see; he could pretend all he wanted, could argue and bitch and _run_ , all he wanted, but he’d grown up in Haven. It was _home_ , and seeing it in ruins _hurt_. Not that anyone would ever believe him if he said as much.

Whatever. He could only keep walking, and hope that it was _worse_ , here in the dream, than it was outside in the real world. That as battered as he knew the town had to be, it hadn’t yet reached _this_ degree.

He didn’t know; he hadn’t had to pass through the heart of town to get to Nathan’s.

He stepped carefully around the warnings on the streets, feeling at once exposed and invisible- here and there, there was movement, but nothing looked up as he passed, nothing seemed to react to his presence. It was probably for the best- he didn’t exactly want to raise the alarm before he’d even found anyone- but it was still _eerie_ , amplified the sense of... dislocation, of not quite being _real_ that he couldn’t entirely shake.

He’d never enjoyed being overlooked.

He’d just reached the edge of the park, was within sight of the police station, when the space outside his range _blurred_ , rippled like the surface of a pond that’d been dramatically disturbed, buildings and trees and earth and sky shattering into unrecognizable, formless shapes. Duke felt his stomach lurch, dropped down to brace one hand on the path beneath his feet on instinct alone. It wasn’t an earthquake- he couldn’t feel movement, and no earthquake he’d ever experienced had simply _unmade_ the buildings around him- but he felt the same atavistic horror that came with the ground dropping away beneath him, icy fear sweeping up his spine.

And then it was over, and the world beyond his circle was still and whole and recognizable once more.

Duke didn’t immediately move, rattled and confused and wary, but everything seemed _normal_ \- still grey and terrible, but in the same way it’d been grey and terrible since he’d made it into the dream. He was just _somewhere else_ , on a different road, with a different view. Different buildings ranged along one side, a different stretch of water showed not far down the hill on the other.

Very slowly, he straightened back up, and the buildings remained stationary.

Distantly, he heard the echo of voices, distorted and stretched to the point of being meaningless, unrecognizable, and there was a faint whisper of pressure at his wrist.

 _Gloria_ , some part of him filled in, probably taking his pulse. He must’ve reacted, somehow, his alarm must’ve translated back. Which, really, was something he hadn’t considered; he didn’t exactly like the thought of how vulnerable he was, of being _watched_ while he was under, but that was not a problem he could solve in any way but getting this _done_ as fast as possible and _getting out_.

And it was _probably_ better that Gloria _was_ monitoring his state- at least if he hurt himself in the dream, she might be able to patch him up in the real world.

The buildings still hadn’t moved, or repeated their violent dissolution, so he took a cautious step forward. His path stretched in front of him, as it had before, melting into the new road, and Duke steeled himself, and kept going.

***

 _Nathan holds his pose, because he needs to. Because Audrey needs him to. Because what is being asked of them, of_ her _, is cruel beyond the telling of it, and all he can do- the only thing can do- is to try his best not to make it worse._

_Because there is no making it better._

_Nathan holds his pose, keeps a resolute and broken smile in place as he tells Audrey what she needs to hear. That it’s okay, that he understands, that she will_ remain _, present and intangible, in everything she is giving herself to accomplish. He speaks soft lies and keeps his chin up and his shoulders square as he walks away, feeling the burn of her last touch echoing in his skin and knowing that it is the only thing he ever wants to feel again._

_Knowing that he’ll lose even that, the moment sensation comes rushing back, and hating the thought more than he’d ever imagined he could._

_Nathan holds his pose, because Audrey needs him to be stronger, this time, to keep from failing as he has once before. Because she needs to know that he can manage, that he will hold, and he can let her see that. He can let her_ believe _that, long enough to do what is necessary._

_He can wait to break, to crack apart, to collapse under the weight of losing everything all over again, until she is gone. He can let her have the peace he never will._

_The armory begins to glow, and Nathan turns, watches, because he needs to. Because she deserves for her sacrifice to have a witness, who_ knows _, who understands how hard she’s fought. Because she deserves for her sacrifice to have a witness who loves her, not for what she is doing, but for who she is._

_Aether streams through the air, pulled from him, pulled from the town, pulled from the Barrier and beyond, a hundred thousand dark spots slipping away, and Nathan holds his pose, because it is all he has left to hold on to._

***

Something was happening. A shift, a change in the light, and Duke braced, half expecting the world to dissolve again, but-

-the armory was _glowing_. Was lit like a beacon, and it was being swarmed, a flood of- of _aether_ , gathering, pulling, vanishing into the armory.

The armory that was at the logical end of his path, and Duke picked up his pace, moving faster, because whatever was happening, he was guessing his people were in the middle of it.

The last of the aether disappeared from the air, and there was a shivering sense of displacement-

-and the armory _collapsed_ , shattered into rubble.

Duke felt his heart skip a beat. The soft yellow faded out of the path beneath him as bitter cold swept in, as his grip on the space around him slipped under a level of panic he really couldn’t afford. He could not afford _fear_ , not here, not when the world around him wasn’t anything more solid than thought. He couldn’t afford fear, when everything, _everything_ , depended on him keeping control.

He couldn’t afford to doubt. He couldn’t afford to panic.

This was nothing but a bad dream, and losing sight of that was not a fucking option.

He pushed forward, forcing the cold back once more, trying to ignore the fact that the ground beneath his feet stayed bleached asphalt instead of yellow brick. He’d fix his grip in a minute, when he’d sorted out what the hell had just happened; the world, at least, was not melting, had not changed shape- he had to assume that Nathan was still in front of him, that he was traveling in the right direction and the scene hadn’t changed.

It took entirely too long, and no time at all, to get close enough to see the ground where the armory had been, for that part of the grey to become solid and visible. There was dust rising from shattered stone and crumbled brick, thick enough for Duke to taste it. It burned like iron in his mouth and throat, sharp and wet and _heavy_.

He didn’t care; in front of the rubble, not in it, not _under_ it, he could see Nathan’s unmistakable silhouette.

Relief was too small a word.

Nathan was staring blankly at the rubble, expression distant and unfocused and _terrible_ , lost in a way Duke didn’t think he’d ever seen Nathan before, but he was whole and he was standing, and that was enough.

Everything else, they could _fix_.

Duke jogged closer, and the cold retreated, the ground beneath his feet reflecting the way asphalt _should_ reflect in winter light, and maybe it wasn’t as cheerful as the yellow, but he’d take it.

Nathan didn’t look up, didn’t respond to the sound of his steps. Inconvenient, because Nathan was drawn and pale in a way that made Duke think that _startling_ him would be a very bad plan, but whatever, he’d work around it.

He came to a stop directly in front of Nathan, hating immediately and fervently the way Nathan’s eyes stayed unfocused, the way he stayed _unaware._ It’d been helpful before, but _invisible_ was no longer acceptable. He dragged in a breath and the scattered edges of his control, and exhaled with intention, re-asserting the space around him. Claiming it, anchoring it in color and warmth, and _stretching_ , pushing forward until the edge of it swept over Nathan.

Nathan shivered, hands flexing; his brows furrowed, expression shifting from lost to _confused_ , and then his eyes focused.

Nathan _recoiled_ , jerked back so hard he tripped himself, and yeah, that could have gone better. Duke made a grab for him, trying to keep him from hitting the ground, but Nathan twisted, evaded his hands and wound up sprawled on the pavement, eyes too wide and breathing harsh and irregular, staring up at Duke with something like _fear_.

“Easy, Nate,” Duke offered, trying very hard not to let that hurt, raising his hands in front of him. “Wasn’t trying to scare you, just- just calm down, okay?”

“You can’t be here,” Nathan said, the words thick and awful and _shattered_ , “you- this isn’t real.”

“...No, technically it’s not,” Duke agreed, because it was true. “Nate-”

“How are you here?” Nathan asked, and Duke felt the words die in his throat; Nathan’s voice was _broken_ , his expression still terrible and afraid and layered with something else, something Duke had seen entirely too much of from Nathan since the Barn.

Guilt.

“...Nate,” Duke said, still- at a loss, unprepared for the amount of emotion on display, “It’s- a little complicated. But I need you to calm down, okay? Can you do that for me? I’ll explain, just- just chill, take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t understand,” Nathan said, still staring, and Duke crouched down, not liking the sense of looming over Nathan.

“All this?” he said, gesturing around, “None of it’s real. It’s just a dream, we think- we think Croatoan took the Sandman’s Trouble, that he’s- that he built this. You’re asleep, Nate.”

“...What?” Nathan asked, blinking. “...No, that’s- Troubles’re _gone_ , just-”

“Yeah, whatever just happened? Not real,” Duke repeated. “This _isn’t real_. It’s just a dream, and I need you to help me figure out where Dwight is, and- and find Audrey, if we can, if she’s here, I don’t- we don’t know for sure, but- I need you to focus, okay, because I need your help.”

“...S’not real?” Nathan asked, voice hollow, and Duke shook his head.

“No. It’s not.”

“...Okay,” Nathan said, nodding. “What-” he stopped, his voice cracking, and his expression was... _odd_ , not relieved or angry or afraid, any longer, just- _accepting_ , distant in an entirely new way, “what do you need me to do?”

“We need to find Dwight, I _know_ he’s here somewhere,” Duke said, trying not to show the flood of _unease_ that had swept through him at Nathan’s sudden, _passive_ acceptance. It _should_ be good news, given how miserable Nathan looked; it _should_ be cause for outrage and resistance, because it was an attack, a manipulation. It _should_ be cause for alarm, because _Duke didn’t know where Audrey was_ , and Nathan should be ready to rip the dream world apart to find her.

Nathan wasn’t showing _any_ of that, and Duke didn’t know what to do with that.

“Know where Dwight is,” Nathan said, a twist of- of _bitterness_ , resentment, in his voice, and that was not helping, but Duke would take _somewhere to start_.

“...Good,” he said, and he reached out a hand, offered it to Nathan. “C’mon, get up, I’m pretty sure we’re not flying under the radar anymore, and I’d like to have more of a plan than ‘wing it’ by the time anybody can do anything about that.”

Nathan hesitated, eyes focused on Duke’s outstretched hand for a long moment. Then he pushed against the asphalt, and reached up, and Duke had just a moment to recognize _impending disaster_ before Nathan’s hand connected with his, the warm slickness of _blood_ coating his palm.

Duke yanked away, chest squeezing, _dread_ a squirming pit in his stomach, stumbling back and tripping over the curb, ending up just as sprawled and graceless as Nathan had, and he tried to force a warning past the noose-tight knot in his throat. Nathan looked startled, and then equally horrified, _guilt_ once again overwhelming any other expression, and Duke didn’t have the focus to spare for understanding that, was focused on the smear of red on his skin, on the understanding of how very, very bad this was about to be.

“Nate, _go_ -” he choked out, and Nathan shook his head, retreated only a foot or so.

“Didn’t mean,” Nathan started, before the words just seemed to vanish, and Duke pushed himself up, because if Nathan wasn’t going to run, _he_ had to try-

-except the blood was still just _there_ , was still just a too-bright flash of crimson in the middle of so much grey, sitting on his skin.

Not soaking in, not absorbing, not _humming_ hot and enticing in his mind. It was just- _there_.

“The hell?” he managed, closing his hand, digging his fingertips into the bright, bright red, seeing it smear, cutting pale lines behind the progress of his nails, and still, nothing. Nothing but red and the scent of iron.

“...Duke?” Nathan managed, expression lost and uncertain, and Duke looked back down at him, stomach swooping.

“It’s not- your Trouble is _gone_ ,” he said, dazed. “I thought- but it’s not doing anything.”

“...All of ‘em ‘re gone,” Nathan said slowly, like he didn’t understand why Duke was surprised. “Nothin’ left.”

“Huh,” Duke replied, letting himself start to relax, pushing the fear down. That would make this process _much_ easier, if he didn’t have to worry about going black-eyed and murderous, if he _couldn’t_ be triggered here. And- “Fuck. Nate, listen, you- I need you to be _careful_ , okay, this is all- it’s not _real_ , but I had to use Carrie’s Trouble to get here. I needed- I needed it to anchor- never mind, just- her Trouble, we’re both affected.”

“...Troubles’re _gone_ ,” Nathan repeated, and Duke huffed a sigh.

“Yeah, in here, but _this isn’t real_ ,” Duke countered. “They aren’t gone back in the real world. Except, y’know, maybe _yours_ , because like I said, Carrie’s Trouble, you- you might be okay, which, let me tell you, I am going to call a goddamn _win_ if we make it out of this.”

“Right,” Nathan said, voice flat, and that- Duke really didn’t know how to handle that. But whatever, he’d deal with whatever was going on in Nathan’s head when they were _out_.

Or he’d make Audrey do it, because she was a hell of a lot better at the emotional crap than he would ever be. Particularly when it came to Nathan.

“Right,” Duke echoed, and he wiped his hand off on his jeans and took a few steps forward, so that he was back in Nathan’s space. He braced, focusing on the idea that it was _fine_ , that it was _safe_ , and offered Nathan his hand once more. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

Nathan hesitated once more, expression shifting through a dozen shades of _unhappy_ , and shook his head.

“‘M fine,” he said, starting to push himself up, and Duke felt his stomach sink.

“...Right. Sorry.” Duke drew back a few steps, pulling in on himself; he waited while Nathan got his feet under him, winced when Nathan winced, because it hadn’t exactly been a bad fall, but even minor aches and pains had to be a little overwhelming if Nathan was actually _feeling_ again. Nathan examined his hands, flexing them to stretch the skin on his palms, and Duke made a soft noise of disapproval. “Hey, don’t. We- we should find somewhere to clean those out, wrap ‘em up.”

“It’ll keep,” Nathan said, shrugging disinterestedly and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Said... you want to find Dwight.”

“Yeah, that- that is what we need to do,” Duke agreed, feeling off-balance. “We-”

There was a shift in the air, and Duke moved without thinking, lunging forward to grab Nathan’s arm and _holding on_ , holding the ground beneath them wide enough to ensure they were both completely within the circle. The world around them rippled, distorted, and Duke closed his eyes and folded around Nathan, trying to block out the disorientation and fear. Except he couldn’t; even with his eyes closed, he could still see the world _shifting_.

There was a single moment of stillness, then a shrill blast of icy wind hit hard enough to _scour_ , the world _shaking_ , shapes dissolving and reforming as they were, and Duke was pretty sure Croatoan knew he was there, now.

“The _hell_?” Nathan demanded, and Duke opened his eyes to find Nathan staring with a sort of wide-eyed alarm that, at the very least, looked a hell of a lot more _alert_ than his acceptance had been.

“Like I said, I don’t think we’re flying under the radar anymore,” Duke said, managing a quick twist of a smile. “That happened once before, it was like- the world fell apart and shaped up again in a different place. But we didn’t move, this time. Whatever he tried, it didn’t work.”

“...That- _what_ ,” Nathan said, breathing too fast, expression shifting into something wild and a little bit dangerous, and Duke got it, realized what the distance had been. Understood that Nathan _hadn’t_.

“Nathan. Look at me. _This is not the real world_ ,” he said, trying to make Nathan _hear him_. To make him _believe it_. “This is a _dream_. This is Croatoan fucking with your head, okay, this is a Trouble. You are asleep, right now, you are asleep on a cot in the office in your house.”

“I- _none_ of this is real?” Nathan asked, eyes narrowing, his hands, where he’d thrown them wide in response to the shift, flexing again, and Duke shrugged.

“The physical consequences are,” Duke reminded him, “I couldn’t think of a better option than Carrie’s Trouble, so, y’know, the scrapes, those are real, now, but no. This-” Duke motioned at the horrible grey streets, “this isn’t.”

“...You- but _you_ , you’re- here?” Nathan asked, a note in his voice that Duke didn’t recognize, didn’t think he’d heard before and wasn’t sure he ever wanted to hear again. “ _You’re_ real?”

“Yeah, Nate. I’m really here,” Duke started. “I got back, and-”

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence; Nathan _moved_ , dragged him into a clutching hug that was unexpected enough- and rough enough- to knock the breath from him. It was _definitely_ not the reaction he’d been prepared for, left him stunned and awkward for a moment. One of Nathan’s hands was tangled in the back of Duke’s sweater, holding tight enough that he could feel sharp points of cold through the gaps he was opening in the knit; the other had managed to curve up to take a bruising grip on the back of his shoulder. Duke hesitated, but slowly brought his hands up, resting them lightly against Nathan’s back, and he could feel Nathan tense at the contact, felt a shuddering exhale roll out beneath his palms, and Nathan pushed _closer_ , dropped his head on Duke’s shoulder and curled into his space, breathing rough and damp against the skin at his shirt collar.

Shaken, unsure what to make of such unguarded _intensity_ \- which felt entirely too raw for simple _relief_ \- Duke cautiously rubbed Nathan’s back, let the fingers of one hand curl firm and reassuring at the back of Nathan’s neck.

“Hey, easy, it’s- it’s good to see you too,” he said, trying not to make his discomfort obvious. Nathan didn’t reach out to him like this, not- not often, and it was _more_ , was more desperate and more shaken than after the Troubles had torn their way out of him.

Was more than at the crappy little bar, after the Barn, was _heavier_ , no easy jubilation like he’d seen in those first few seconds.

Nathan didn’t let go, didn’t _move_ , held on and trembled, and Duke tried not to dwell on how much he wanted to _run_.

“Nate,” he said, after another moment, trying to keep his tone level, “hey, it’s- it’s okay, but, we kinda need to get moving. Don’t want to spend more time here than we have to, right?”

Nathan held for another too-long second, before he pulled back- not far, not enough to let go of his strangling grip on Duke’s sweater- and Duke didn’t have words for the look in his eyes. Wasn’t sure he _wanted_ words for that look, felt it crawl along his spine like a warning cry.

“When- what day, what’s happening, not... here?” Nathan asked, voice full of gravel.

“Gloria said you’ve been down for two days,” Duke said.

“ _When_?” Nathan repeated. “How much- how much was just-”

“I don’t know, man, I just got here,” Duke replied, feeling guilty that he couldn’t offer anything more helpful, more _concrete_ , but Duke didn’t _know_ what’d happened in the dream.

“Just-” Nathan stopped, and shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “You _just_ got here? Here where?”

“Here, _both_ ,” Duke said. “Got back into town three hours ago. Or, well, three hours before I had Gloria put me under so that I could come _here_ , I don’t- not sure I have a real reliable sense of how time’s passing in here.”

“You- just got into Haven today?” Nathan asked, sounding shaken. “And Gloria... said we’ve been down for two days?”

“Yeah. Sorry, that’s- that’s about all I’ve got,” Duke said. “I don’t know if that helps-”

“Helps,” Nathan said, the word gruff. “Just- tryin’ to- lot happened. Thought it did, ‘nyway.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Duke said, wildly uneasy. “But let’s worry about the specifics when we’re _awake_ , okay, I really- I’d like to be out of here before he figures out how to do more than adjust the landscape.”

“...Right,” Nathan said. “You said- Dwight’s here, too?”

“Yes,” Duke said. “We need to find him.”

“He’s- he’s at home,” Nathan said, shifting uncomfortably. “With- with his daughter. Was, anyway, not sure- with... Troubles’re gone, not- not sure ‘bout Lizzie.”

“...Ah,” Duke said, because that could definitely complicate things. That- they’d deal with it. Somehow. It- he’d worry about that when he actually _knew_ what the situation was, instead of just guessing.

Normally, he’d prefer to just let Nathan handle it, but Nathan still looked- unsteady, off-balance in a way that Duke wasn’t sure how to respond to.

He’d used to know, he’d used to understand how to handle Nathan. How to keep them both in balance, even if it wasn’t a particularly _healthy_ balance. He’d lost _that_ somewhere too. Too many crises, too many mistakes, too many losses- he was so damn tired of letting this town take him apart piece by piece.

He didn’t want to let it take anything else.

“It’s- we’ll figure it out, but we need to go,” Duke said, shaking his head. He thought, for a moment, that he should probably tell Nathan to _stay close_ , in case the dreamscape changed again, but Nathan still hadn’t let go, didn’t show any sign that he intended to, and that would probably be good enough. “Which direction? I don’t know where Dwight lives.”

“...West,” Nathan said, gesturing with a sharp tilt of his head. “Not too far.” He took a cautious step, and Duke followed after, because really, he didn’t exactly have a choice, and even if he had, he didn’t want Nathan to get ahead of him. Nathan seemed to relax, slightly, when Duke didn’t hesitate, and started up the road; Duke let him lead, making an effort to reaffirm his grip on the space they were in. It was easier than it had been before to brighten the colors, to ease the biting edge of the cold; but he could feel it wearing, now, weighing a little heavier.

He wondered what would happen, if he exhausted himself like this. If his dream-self ran out of energy while his physical-self was already asleep.

He didn’t particularly like any of the options he could imagine, and nudged Nathan with his shoulder, quickening his strides. Nathan glanced sideways, brow furrowed, but matched his pace without complaint.

“You-” Nathan started, voice low, “What’d- you said you weren’t sure, Audrey was here?”

Duke flinched, and shook his head.

“No. I don’t know where Audrey is.”

“Here, or...?” Nathan sounded choked, sounded like he wasn’t quite sure where he fell between _angry_ and _afraid_.

“At all,” Duke said, hating to have to admit it. “When I- I got to your place, Gloria was there. They, everybody- found you, and found Dwight, but. Nobody’s found Audrey.”

“What-” Nathan started, traces of fury and urgency and helplessness raw in the word, before he forced himself to steady. “Who’s looking for her? What’s being done?”

“ _We’re_ looking for her. As soon as we figure out how to get _you_ out of _here_ ,” Duke said, and Nathan blinked at him.

“What do you mean, _figure out_?” he asked, pulling them both to a stop, and Duke shifted uneasily.

“I was kind of hoping you knew how Audrey got out of this thing the first time through,” Duke said. “Figured... She probably told you.”

“You-” Nathan started, clearly disbelieving- or maybe outraged, outraged was also a possibility- “You don’t have a plan for getting back _out_? And you’re _here_ instead of going after her?” And yeah, no, that, that was outrage, and Duke drew himself up, because okay, Nathan kind of had a point, but it wasn’t that simple.

“I had a chance to get to one of you, _maybe_ both, and I took it! I’ve been back _three hours_ , Nate, I don’t _know_ what’s happening, I don’t know what’s broken and how, I don’t- I could get to you. I had a better chance of finding you than finding her _alone!_ ”

Nathan’s expression shifted, faded into something small and wounded, and Duke wasn’t entirely sure what he’d said, to make Nathan _shrink_ like that.

“You’re right,” Nathan said, and Duke blinked, utterly thrown by that. “Shouldn’t’ve- safer, this way. Made the right call, s’better if we stick together.”

“...Yeah,” Duke agreed, “okay. That, that is- definitely what I was thinking,” he said, which was definitely not true, he hadn’t actually been thinking beyond needing to do _something_ immediately, beyond the fear of knowing that losing Nathan was _not an option_ , not for the town and not for him.

But that sounded reasonable, and practical, and he’d happily accept the excuse.

“So we’ll- we’ll go find Dwight, and figure out if Audrey’s _here_ , and if she is, we- we maybe get a better idea of where _else_ she is. And if she’s not, we get the hell out of here, and then we go and get her back,” he added, because Nathan still looked- _hurt_ in a way Duke couldn’t account for. “We’ll figure this out, Nate, we will.”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, and Duke felt his grip on Duke’s sweater spasm, go tighter still for a moment. He started moving again, and Duke moved with him, and Nathan frowned down at the cracked black pavement. “...You got here, said the- when everything went _wrong_ , that’d happened before? Said you _moved_ , one place to another?”

“It was more like everything _else_ moved,” Duke corrected. “I don’t think I did. I think... Okay, this is just a guess, I may be talking out of my ass here, but if this is anything like- well, if this is anything I understand _at all_ , I think it’s- relative position. I was looking for _you_. I think... where you were, changed. But I think where I was, _relative to you_ , didn’t change. Same distance between point A and point B, just- the line was on a different part of the map.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed, brow drawing down as he considered that- it was his _puzzling things out_ expression, and Duke let him think, not sure what he was trying to make fit.

“Where?” Nathan asked, the word rasping. “Where- before the... movement?”

“Just up from the station,” Duke said, and Nathan blanched, stumbled over his own feet in a graceless display that would’ve been unlike him even when he couldn’t feel where his feet were. “...Nate?”

“It _was_ more than once,” Nathan said, sounding gutted, eyes too round and glassy with something like shock.

“...What was?” Duke asked, unsettled, and Nathan shook his head, still terribly pale, a look of sick horror starting to shift into a very familiar _anger_.

“Things- felt wrong,” Nathan said, which was not an answer, but he locked his jaw, worked the muscles visibly enough that Duke’s teeth hurt in sympathy. “He- goin’ back and forth, I- _bastard_.”

“Back and forth between _what?_ ” Duke asked again. Nathan looked up at him, the same awful, indescribable look twisting his features, lighting up all of Duke’s warning instincts at once.

“...Doesn’t matter,” Nathan said, voice flat and gravelly. “Didn’t happen. Wasn’t real.”

And Duke was pretty sure it mattered a hell of a lot, but that was a conversation that could wait.

“Okay,” he yielded. “You okay? Need a minute?”

“No,” Nathan said, pushing forward again, and Duke pretended not to notice the tremble working its way through him.

***

_Time stretches. Audrey doesn’t know how long she’s been here, but it feels like weeks._

_Of course, that might be the company. The crystallized version of Vince is- well, much like Vince. Haughty, self-important, and grating- his humor wears thin quickly, and there’s very little to keep him occupied._

_Croatoan shows her how to isolate a section of the environment, and access the materials stored in the crystal over the years. Audrey pulls together scraps of Sarah and Lucy and pieces together a Haven that is in many ways unfamiliar to_ her _, but that Vince should know well._

_They very quickly see a lot less of Vince._

_Which leaves Audrey with Croatoan. It’s uncomfortable- Audrey doesn’t know how to act, how to behave. She hates him, hates him so much that there are moments when all she can see is blinding white._

_He took Nathan from her. He took Duke from her. He took Dwight and Gloria, Vickie and Stan and Rebeccah, he took her home, her town, her_ world _from her._

_He took her mother._

_He took her son._

_She hates him, and it burns in her like a signal flare, and there are moments when she doesn’t know how to contain it._

_But he is also, aside from the brief moments when she hides herself away in a memory room of her own, her only real company. And_ forever _is a long time to be alone. So sometimes, when she can choke down the rage, she doesn’t retreat from his approach._

_Sometimes, she listens._

_And as time stretches on, she feels a twist of doubt curl in her stomach._

_Because he talks about the things he’d learned, the skills he’d developed. Tells her stories of experiments, in Haven and in the Void, and his admiration for Mara’s creations. He spins stories of power, the kind of power that can alter time, that can raise the dead, that can rebuild ruins._

_And Audrey left everything she loves in ruins._

_She doesn’t ask if he knows how to fix it. She knows that he does. She knows, too, that she could learn._

_She doesn’t ask, because as soon as she asks, she knows it will be more than a_ temptation _, it will be a plan. And she knows better. She does._

_She just- has to remember that._

***

About half a mile down the road, they encountered the first people Duke had seen since just before the police station. They were milling about in the middle of the road, working their way around a roadblock that looked to be put together out of broken furniture and rubble, looking dazed and uncertain. One of them had a nasty gash on their arm, blood running heavy enough to be a serious concern. Another was being held up by a third, clearly struggling to walk on what was probably a badly-broken leg.

Duke fought down the warring impulses to stay as far away from the blood as possible, and to try and offer some kind of help- neither was useful. The blood here should be aether free, and slowing down to help figments would cost them time they couldn’t afford.

Nathan, though, hesitated, and Duke could see that he was having a much harder time with the idea of just- _walking away_.

“They aren’t real, Nate,” Duke said, making his voice as firm as he could. “It’s a distraction- we need to keep moving.”

“Don’t _know_ that,” Nathan replied, visibly wavering. “Could be trapped here, like us.”

“If they are, the best thing we can do for them is figure out how to get _out_ ,” Duke pointed out. “Carrie’s Trouble should only affect _us_ , so if we can figure out how to get out, turn this whole thing off, they’ll be fine.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Nathan asked, looking uncertain, and Duke hesitated.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “C’mon, I don’t think they can see us, so let’s just- go, faster we get this done the faster everybody’s out of here.”

And he was still pretty certain they weren’t _real_. Gloria hadn’t mentioned anybody else being found in a similar state, and Duke had to imagine that Croatoan had gone after Nathan and Dwight _specifically_ for a reason.

Nathan continued to hesitate, still clearly unhappy, but eventually he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, and started forward again. Duke moved to skirt around the injured strangers, pulling his circle back to just barely cover the space he and Nathan needed, and he kept a wary eye on them as he and Nathan passed through the narrow space between the roadblock and the other group. They were almost clear when one of the others turned and stumbled in their direction; Duke pulled Nathan a step back, but it wasn’t enough.

The woman hit the edge of Duke’s space, and _shimmered_ ; there was a scream from one of her companions as half of her simply _disappeared_.

What was left toppled over, one eye wide and staring. The edges of her _curled_ , churning and flickering the same way as the border of his presence did. Duke’s stomach turned over, and he dragged Nathan away, fingers biting hard into his arm as he pulled. Nathan resisted, eyes huge and horrified, and Duke shook his head, pulling harder.

“Not real, Nate,” he managed, “if she were real she would’ve seen us, not- _that_.” And he was _sure_ of that, was completely sure that a real person wouldn’t have just- _melted_.

After all, Nathan hadn’t, and assuming Duke _ever slept again_ , he’d be having nightmares about _that_ possibility for a very, very long time.

But Nathan was real, and the woman was not, and as horrifying- and _nauseating_ \- as it was, he’d learned something useful. Croatoan’s dream-things couldn’t pass into his space.

A fact which he appreciated, as the sky above them swirled dark and heavy, cold air whipping across the surrounding terrain, and the two remaining figures went blank and still and _focused_. In step, they turned with hands outstretched, clearly _searching_.

Nathan stopped fighting Duke’s grip, face pale and pinched, and Duke pulled him another few steps, ducking behind the roadblock and pulling his influence in as tightly as he could manage without leaving their edges exposed.

“They still can’t see us,” he said, trying to pretend his voice wasn’t shaking just a little. “And I’m guessing they can’t actually _touch_ us, they’ll- they’ll stop, at the edge. So I think we’re safe, for now.”

“Knows _something’s_ happenin’, for sure,” Nathan said, his voice no more steady than Duke’s. “Gonna be lookin’ for us.”

“Yeah. Which- is not great, but as long as I can hold the space, he can’t find us. So just- just stay close, okay, and we’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Nathan asked, sounding dubious, and Duke flashed a bright, completely fake smile.

“Yeah. Definitely. But, y’know, just in case I’m wrong, we should probably hurry.”

“...Right,” Nathan agreed, still pale. Duke waited another second, forcing himself to _calm down_ , to remember that he was in control of himself, and the space around him. To remember that no matter what he saw here, it didn’t mean anything.

This was just a bad dream. He’d had nightmares all his life. He could handle this.

He pulled Nathan away from the roadblock, and started back in the direction they’d been going.

***

Dwight’s home was not what Duke had expected.

Of course, his expectations may have been a little ridiculous, in retrospect- it had been _highly_ unlikely that Dwight had actually lived in an underground bunker. Still, the normal little house on what he remembered- once upon a time, before everything went pretty literally to hell- being a quiet little street just seemed incongruous with the town fixer.

Less incongruous, he supposed, with the town’s chief of police, even if Duke had never quite actually gotten comfortable with that shift in positions.

Duke hesitated on the sidewalk, and Nathan glanced sideways at him.

“...Said, when you got here, you were lookin’ for _me_. You didn’t see Dwight?” he asked, and Duke shook his head.

“No. You were the first person I found,” Duke said.

“Huh.”

“Why?” Duke asked, because there was obviously something to that.

“...Just. Before- he said he saw you. Things were- complicated, wasn’t sure I believed him, but he seemed pretty sure. And the- he was right, ‘bout where I needed to be.”

And none of that made any particular amount of sense to Duke, but Nathan was being particularly tight-lipped about the details of what, exactly, he’d believed was happening before Duke had gotten there, and Duke didn’t exactly want to press the issue.

“Well, then I guess this’ll be an interesting visit,” he said, instead of asking anything else, and Nathan shot him a look, lips pressed thin and judgemental eyebrows firmly in place.

Then his expression shifted, went awful and uncertain again, and he turned into Duke’s space, posture urgent and pleading.

“Duke, things- went bad,” Nathan said, and Duke nodded, because he’d guessed that much. Nathan frowned, met his nod with a different sort of unease. “I just. You need to know-”

He broke off, the words hanging, and Duke frowned.

“Nate, whatever it is, you don’t need to tell me. It was bad, I get it, I can- I can tell that much. You don’t have to-”

“Stop,” Nathan said, the word sharp. “Stop talkin’, just- need you to know, I won’t let this happen again. I _won’t_. Whatever it takes, it doesn’t go down like this again.”

“ _We_ won’t,” Duke agreed. “It’s- I shouldn’t have left, I- I should never have left you to clean up my mess-”

“ _Not_ your mess,” Nathan said, shifting to abandon his grip on the back of Duke’s sweater for an equally aggressive hold on the front, bunching the fabric. “Didn’t tell you that, and I should’ve, should’ve said it before you left, should’ve said it ‘til you _listened_. This isn’t _your mess_ , Duke, this’s _Mara’s_ mess. She did this. Not you. Did this _to you_ , much as the rest of us. More, even.”

Duke flinched away from the words, tried to back away, but Nathan didn’t relax his hold, leaned closer as Duke leaned away, and the thought rose up, useless and unnecessary- _relative distance, fixed positions_. He pushed it aside, and brought a hand up, curling it around Nathan’s wrist, not sure if he was trying to force him to let go, or hoping he wouldn’t.

“Not that simple, Nate, she- I let her-”

“Didn’t _let_ her do anything,” Nathan snapped. “She used you, got in your head ‘cause the people who _should’ve_ been listenin’ _weren’t_. And that’s on me. Should’ve been payin’ attention, should’ve- you _asked_. You _asked_ me for help, and I didn’t listen.”

And Duke wasn’t prepared to hear this; wasn’t prepared to hear Nathan defend _his_ actions, his mistakes, when he’d brought so much ruin with them. Wasn’t prepared to have Nathan give voice to all the things he’d told _himself_ , trying to pretend he wasn’t making all the wrong calls.

“This- can we not do this now?” Duke asked, voice rasping. “Please, can we just- there’s more important things we need to be doing.”

“ _This’s_ important,” Nathan said, not backing down. “That’s how we _get_ in this mess, pushin’ things off, always _somethin’_ needs doin’ more. Not doin’ that again, not this time.” And there was something else, something more, going into Nathan’s words, something beyond the argument of why he’d left and whose fault it was, but Duke didn’t know _what_.

Didn’t want to know.

“It-”

“You weren’t wrong, to run.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Duke snapped, because _that_ was too much. “Just- don’t,” he repeated, quieter, stomach twisted and chest heavy. “Whatever- whatever else was... I shouldn’t have left. If I hadn’t-” he felt the thought curdle, sour and unwelcome, and forced himself to finish it. “If I hadn’t, we might know where Audrey is, right now.”

“Maybe,” Nathan allowed, but the accusation, the _anger_ , Duke had expected his reminder to provoke didn’t come. “Doesn’t change the rest.”

“...Yeah, whatever,” Duke said, because he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ , focus on that right now. He couldn’t afford to. “If I promise we can talk about this later, can we get on with this? Because I don’t exactly know how long this little trick I’m pulling is gonna last, and I’d like to be done before we have to find out.”

Nathan’s brow furrowed, before he nodded sharply, a shadow of worry slipping into his expression.

“Later,” he agreed, and it sounded more like a threat, but at least he was backing up a step, was letting his hand fall. Duke automatically shifted closer as soon as Nathan had turned back to the house, keeping him inside the circle he was holding, and he waited for Nathan to take the lead up the path.

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this conversation.

They reached the front step, and exchanged a silent glance- discomfort and determination in equal parts- and Nathan raised a hand to knock.


End file.
